It's just most of life I live in a completely opposite way. I earn a certain amount that is sort of not enough and spend it on good food, eating out occasionally and methods of dealing with life like good cappucino's and books newspapers chocolate cigarettes and one or two other interesting substances.
And I just never seem to have enough to buy clothes, furniture, dongle's, hi-fi's.
Even my drug dealer has a better kitted out space that I do. I come home from a visit to him and I think not about giving it up but rather about how I can expand to greenhouse size and also have a camel coloured leather lounge suite with great big speakers like an ox and a hi-fi that really sings.
Of course I would listen to Pachebel not hip hop or whatever he had on. It is that sort of music that really loves a good hi-fi. I don't get the fuss about quality when it sounds just plain noisy whatever it is played on. Ah so I got old and got to be a grandma's age without the grandkids.
I can't believe how fast the socialised trajectory goes - married at twenty with a bond, two cars, jobs, kids and all and then a grandmother by my age. It is just plain ridiculous. But aren't they happier those who follow the rules and end up in that position at around my age. They are the accepted ones the ones who do not have drug dealers but go to book club and generally behave themselves like grown-ups ladies. I guess I missed that part.
And the thing is about grandma's they should so not be like me. It is not a joke that I do not have a couch. I have yet to meet another human from the lowliest bunny hugging rasta man hippy streetkid to the richest larnest dwelling into which I have been, everyone has a couch. What is it with lounge suites. How do you go about getting one. I just never really see a lounge suite in a shop window in a month of Sunday's.
I reckon it is the kind of thing you have to drive to a shopping mall/precinct to get a glimpse of and this is where you have lost me already. If it is not in my local neighbourhood I will not be shopping there. Occaisionally when someone tells me about a second hand shop I can be willing to move my fat ass down there but it really is so seldom I can name the year in the far distant past, when God was a boy when the last piece of furniture was bought for a couple of hundred.
Psychologically incapable of spending more than R1000 on one item. How do other human's do it especially when they do not actually earn much more than me. Well I could eat crap cheap food I guess but I really like a few nice things in my pot. Luckily I don't drink either or though I could see that that would not redeem me given as I (at my age) have a dealer.
The funniest thing is that he now lives in another city far far away. This means that I have to fly an aircraft 2hours to get to him. Which I did recently and packed by boobs to bring it back. Reduced to this at my age. Ridiculous.
So I returned with two fat bags of ... and one extra thrown over a known indulger's wall into their garden - well I got two boobs underweight and undersized so I can get two in but where do I put the third. I am not sure I could pass myself off as a trans-sexual mid-flight as it were.
Anyway, let's hope I do not go through my periodic - that is it I am so giving this fuzzy brain stuff up and being a normal. It is time, I am sick of the consequences of my behaviour! And then I flush it all down the loo being all stoic and stuff. Oh how do I kick myself when the longing takes hold and I am reduced to driving around in a strange city looking for my old bedfellow which does make me sleep so well and all consequences are forgotten in my wild search for.
So I set up a postal option and resolve no matter what to just not flush it...
Just in case
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